With or Without You
by Araindil
Summary: A study in the theory of cause and effect. What would have happened if certain characters never existed? Is the path that we walk truly shaped by fate, or by those whom we meet? [Chapter Three: Touya Akira]
1. Shindou Hikaru: Things Fall Apart

**_Edited 4.24.06_**: Caught a few typos and added a new section -- **Hon Su-yon**! (It's right between the Akari and Waya sections, if you're looking. This part was inspired bythe samegood friend mentioned in the end notes.)

Disclaimer: Hotta and Obata's. Not mine.

* * *

**With or Without You  
**_A Hikaru no Go Alternate Universe Anthology_

A study in the theory of cause and effect.  
What would have happened if certain characters never existed? Is the path that we walk truly shaped by fate, or by those whom we meet?

* * *

**Shindou Hikaru**  
_Things Fall Apart_

"Yo. What are you doing?"

Tsutsui Kimihiro firmly ignored his friend, rolling up the last battered poster and stowing it among the other miscellaneous items he was carrying.

But Kaga Tetsuo wasn't one to be daunted so easily. He followed the shorter boy. "Hey, Kimi-chan, what's up?"

"Don't call me that," was the automatic response. Kaga grinned. That trick never failed to work.

"What are you doing with all the junk?"

"I'm moving."

"No you're not."

Tsutsui turned, glaring at him from behind thick glasses. "Moving the stuff for the go club, idiot-san."

"Go club?"

"Yes, _go club._" Tsutsui really was angry. His face was slightly flushed, and there was a glint to his eyes -- almost as if he was about to cry. "The go club I wanted to set up, and tried to get you to help with, only you refused so I had to plod on all by my lonesome. And now it's been disbanded because we don't have enough members!"

"Yeesh, calm down," Kaga said. "How many members do you need to keep running shop?"

Tsutsui turned away. "Three."

"You coudn't even find _three_ people to join?"

"No, I couldn't!" Tsutsui snapped back. "I asked Mitani-kun, but he just blew me off. I kept asking around, but everyone was too busy with other clubs or just weren't interested. If you'd joined..." He caught his voice wavering. Taking a deep breath, he continued in a steady tone. "Nevermind. It wouldn't have made a difference. Good day, Kaga-san."

Kaga watched his (ex-?)friend walk away, bags, boxes, and odd papers in his hands and tucked under his arms. A small flyer came loose, and fluttered back to settle at Kaga's feet. He glanced down at it.

"Go club," he muttered to no one in particular. "So what?"

---

"See you tomorrow, Akari-chan!"

Fujisaki Akari smiled and waved good-bye to her friends, setting off for home on foot--

And was very nearly acquainted with a premature death as a rowdy gang of boys rushed past her on motorcycles, bikes, and other run-down forms of transportation. Cat-calls floated back to her, even as an enraged groundkeeper ran out behind them, old and bent and wheezing but nonetheless shaking his fist at them.

"Damn kids," Akari heard him mutter as he walked back into the school.

But her attention was trailing away with a tuft of bright orange hair among that unruly crowd. A sad, wistful air came to her eyes as she turned and walked away, toward her home. That was Mitani-kun, she was sure of it. Akari had never been too close to him, but she did remember him back in junior high, when he'd been a quiet but kind-hearted boy.

She wondered what had happened to cause this change in him. The last rumor she heard was that Mitani-kun had been caught cheating at a go salon and got in trouble with the police. But surely, that wasn't true?

Akari sighed, shaking her head to herself. She should just concentrate on walking and getting these negative thoughts out of her mind.

She could easily have taken the bus or gotten a ride from one of her many friends (and would-be-suitors), but she prefered to walk. It was a peaceful time for her, when she could just be by herself and think.

As one of the most popular girls in her class, she could rarely find time to be alone, as there was always someone or other tagging along, chattering and gossiping with her. It was nice to walk home alone, taking her time to enjoy the peaceful stillness of her little neighborhood.

The neighborhood she had grown up in was quiet. There were no other kids her age there. Of course, everyone on her street knew her and loved her sweet smile, and were always quick with a cheery greeting or compliment.

Now Akari smiled to herself as she walked down that familiar tree-lined street. All the familiar houses seemed to smile back at her. Passing by a particular house, she slowed her step for a moment, glancing at the garden to see if anyone was there today. She wasn't disppointed. Shindou-san was there among her flowers, tending them with as much loving care as a mother would give to her child.

Akari paused at the gate. "Good afternoon, Shindou-san," she said in greeting.

The middle-aged woman looked up, shielding her eyes slightly with one hand as she smiled at Akari. "Good afternoon, Akari-chan," was the warm reply. "School's out already? My, you're becoming prettier everyday! Would you care to come in for some tea?"

Akari blushed slightly at the compliment, but thanked the kind woman and accepted the invitation. By now, the Shindou residence was almost a second home to Akari. Every afternoon she passed by this house, and whenever Shindou Mitsuko saw her, Akari was always given an invitation to come in for a sit. Akari had figured out that it wasn't just coincidence Shindou-san always had tea ready and the living room tidied up, and fresh flowers on the kitchen table. Shindou-san always prepared the house for Akari's visit, a fact that both flattered and saddened Akari.

Quite early on she had noticed a a few pictures tucked in a corner of the room, on a small unobtrusive stand. One was a picture, Akari found, showed Shindou Mitsuko standing in the shade of an apple tree in summertime, smiling, and very much pregnant.

But there was no child around the house, and once when Akari ventured to inquire about this, Shindou-san had cast her eyes downward, and replied quietly that her child had been stillborn. Akari was aghast at her own indiscretion, and apologized profusely. But Shindou-san had smiled, and told her not to worry about it.

From then on Akari often felt like she was taking up the empty space left behind by that child who had never lived in this house. She stood in his place, sat in his seat, and had tea with his mother, chatting and laughing with her.

Sometimes Akari could almost hear another voice, a boisterous, cheerful voice bursting with life and energy. But then the cadence of the conversation shifted, and the moment was lost to her.

Akari wondered what it would have been like if Shindou-san's child had lived. Would they have been friends? It was impossible to say. There was no way she could tell what would have happened in another reality. This answer was one that would elude her forever.

Thanking Shindou-san for the tea, Akari politely excused herself and left a bit earlier than usual, explaining that she had a great deal of homework that day.

"Thank you very much for the hospitality, Shindou-san."

"Oh, it's nothing, dear," the woman said, smiling. "It's always a joy to have you around. Tell your mother I said hello."

"I will. Thanks again!" Akari called back, skipping lightly down the steps to the road. Waving good-bye, she walked lightly down the path from the house to the road, carefully shutting the gate behind her. As she turned away, Akari saw a teenage boy walk past her. Her gaze flickered past him at first, as it so often did when the people or things concerned weren't of immediate concern to her.

But something caught her eye for a moment, just now. It wasn't his looks, though the dark suit on a teenage boy, along with the long hair and almost feminine looks would have stirred anyone's attention.

No. What made Akari pause was the look on his face, something so desolate and blank that it sent a shiver down her spine.

He barely glanced at her as he passed, dark eyes fixed on some distant destination Akari couldn't fathom.

---

_Quitter._

_Loser._

Su-yon couldn't get it out of his head, all the words that he half-dreamt and half-heard around him. He knew his uncle was disappointed in him, though he hadn't seen the man since returning to Korea. But doubtless, his mother's letters had long since informed him of Su-yon's progress.

Or lack thereof.

Coming back, at first Su-yon managed to climb his way back up one class, but in the following two months he fell again. His mother said nothing, but the look in her eyes told him well enough what she thought and felt. Sorrow. Frustration. Disappointment. She was giving up hope on him, he knew; sending him to Japan had been a vacation in disguise, the true purpose being a hope that he would somehow find the fire that would once again set him on the path to success.

Japan. Su-yon had not been impressed by anything in that little island country. It was a commonly known fact that go in Japan was far inferior to that in Korea. And besides, the people who came to his uncle's go salon were all old geezers. Old burnouts who might have had some semblance of a chance when they were fifteen, but no longer.

Su-yon found nothing to inspire him in that setting.

So he had returned, though his uncle suggested he might stay a little while longer, and perhaps he could arrange for Su-yon to meet a few young Japanese pros? The last thing Su-yon wanted was to meet some upstart who only made it because of the poor level of playing in that country. No. He was going home.

Home, to Korea, to his mother...and the Korean Go Institute.

It was the last part that made him (more than) just a little nervous, but Su-yon only clenched his teeth, fuming silently at his own weaknesses, and dove right back into his world of go.

Only to be thrown out again, this time not only with tears of bitterness, but also the emptiness of despair.

His mother and uncle tried to encourage him, but Su-yon had had enough of it all. The pressure. The stress. The bitter finality of defeat.

One day, as his mother tried to convince him with soothing words that everything would be all right, that it was just a "phase," Su-yon felt all the pent up anger and frustration come pouring out. He lashed out at his own mother. He threw his cap at her feet, eyes blazing, stinging with tears.

He couldn't care what everyone else said or expected anymore. He just wouldn't take it from then any longer.

"I quit!"

---

Waya stared at the door, and glanced at the street again. He could just walk away right now and never come back. He could just point his feet down that street, and keep walking, and walking...until he ran into a bus and died, or found himself in a different world.

But that was no answer, and Waya knew it. Sighing, he pushed open the door.

"I'm home, mom." He tried to make his tone enthusiastic, to some extent.

"Well, about time," his mother called from the kitchen. "I was starting to think you'd gotten lost again."

Maybe he should have just let that bus hit him when it had the chance...

"Need any help with dinner?" he asked half-heartedly, knowing what the answer would be.

Sure enough, "The food will be done in a minute; you can just wash the dishes in the sink."

Sighing inwardly, Waya kicked off his shoes and trooped over to the kitchen, squeezing past his mother -- who hadn't even said hello -- in the small kitchen space. Why did he even bother?

He turned on the faucet and started on the dishes, and stole a glance at her. Seeing those strands of white in her hair brought a twinge of guilt. Waya knew how hard his mother had worked all these years, raising him on her own. He knew how much of a worry he was to her through all these insei days, failing the pro exam four times in a row, forever running into obstacle after obstacle...

"How's everything going?" she asked, breaking into his thoughts.

"Great," he said, lying through his teeth.

"Really."

Waya turned his attention to the dishes, feigning nonchalantness. "Yeah."

The truth was, his go seemed to be getting worse by the minute. He still pushed on with the same dogged determination, still swore to Morishita-sensei that he _would_ pass the pro exam this year, still played and studied as hard a ever, but now without the support of--

"How's Isumi-kun doing?"

His mother just had to cut into his thoughts like that, didn't she? And on that topic too.

"As well as ever." Waya tried to keep his tone light, conversational and cheerful as he spoke. "I think if he wins a few more ranking games, he'll become a 2-dan soon."

"You 'think' that?" she echoed, and finally turned to look at him. "Since when have you been lacking in knowledge about your friend?"

_We're not friends anymore_. But he wasn't about to say that out loud. "I don't have to know every little thing about him," he snapped back instead. "It's called giving other people some privacy, you know."

"Huh." His mother didn't sound convinced, but she let the conversation drop.

Waya finished washing the dishes in a decidedly worse mood than before. Why did she have to keep asking about Isumi, anyway? Fine, so Isumi was the first real friend he made after becoming an insei...and they had been best friends for all these past years...and they used to seem almost inseparable, best friends, always together...

Waya didn't want to think about it anymore. He didn't want to lie to his mother anymore either. Besides, she probably already guessed.

"I haven't seen Isumi-san since last summer," he mumbled, drying his hands on a towel, back turned to his mother.

"What happened?" She didn't sound surprised. Great. So she _had_ known.

"I failed the pro exam, remember?"

"So?"

"So Isumi-san has his own life now. He has a job. I don't. He's going forward...I'm still stuck where I am." Every word tore at his heart. It was an exercise of willpower to say all of this to his mother without bolting. Waya had never been open with his mother, so this was a first.

"That doesn't mean you should stop being friends," she pointed out, with the annoying common sense that only a parent could muster.

"Our schedules are completely in conflict."

"Well what about the Young Lions Tournament? Isn't that coming up soon?"

Waya couldn't believe she'd even remembered that. "It's next week," he replied quietly.

"You'll see him there, won't you? You should check the match-ups to see if you'll be playing against him."

"I won't see him until the third round, if I even make it that far." Then, he turned abruptly and pushed his way out of the kitchen.

"Then work harder!" his mother called after him. "And come back in ten minutes for dinner."

Waya ignored her, and went to his room. He didn't feel hungry anymore. He tried not to lie to his mother. He didn't want to, but invariably, it always ended up that she would ask something he didn't, or couldn't, answer truthfully.

Waya had already memorized the match-ups for this year's Young Lions Tournament. First round. Waya Yoshitaka versus Isumi Shinichirou.

The world just hated him, didn't it? Gritting his teeth instinctively, Waya swore to himself right there and then that he _would_ defeat Isumi-san in the first round, in order to advance. It didn't matter that of the games they'd ever played, Waya had lost the majority of them. It didn't matter that he was still an insei. It didn't matter that one of them was going to be hurt by this; if that was the case anyway, then Waya might as well make sure it wasn't himself.

He _would_ go on, somehow, no matter what. He'd promised that to Morishita-sensei, to Shinoda-sensei, to his mother...to Isumi-san.

And Waya Yoshitaka did not go back on his word.

---

"Le Ping! Where do you think you're going?"

Yang Hai glared at the bundle of happy-go-lucky hyperactivity smiling at up at him. This was the second time today he'd caught Le Ping trying to sneak off to play. Not go, but video games.

"I'm going to go eat lunch with Zhao Shi," Le Ping replied. "I'm going to be late, so I have to go! See you!"

"Hold it!" Yang Hai stepped in front of the doors, getting a firm hold on the child's arm to keep him from trying to bolt again.

"Aiyah! Let go already!" Le Ping squirmed, trying to twist free. "I already did my studying today. I won my game, easy. Can I go play, now?"

"_No you can't._ Le Ping, you have to start taking things seriously."

"I'm serious."

"No you're not! If you were, you'd be in your room studying kifus instead of trying to sneak off again. You can't keep doing this! Do you understand, Le Ping? You're not here to have fun. You were chosen to come here because you have potential to become a great go player,_ but you have to take your work seriously_. If you don't, they're going to send you home again."

"But--"

"Think of your future for a moment. Think of your parents! How will they react if you're sent home, huh? They have hopes for you, they want to see you succeed. They're so proud of you, their only, precious son. What am I going to say to them the next time I go back back to Yun'an? That you're going to let them down, drown all their hopes, just because you can't take anything seriously?"

Le Ping turned away, his face an expression of unhappiness and annoyance.

"Le Ping! Answer me!"

"Go away!" With a burst of strength, he flung off Yang Hai's grip and dashed off -- not outside, but back inside. Yang Hai listened to his footsteps pattering through the halls, then up the stairs, to his room. He sighed to himself.

There just wasn't anyone adequate to handle Le Ping. Zhao Shi was probably the only one Le Ping would listen to willingly, but the young pro was busy most of the time, and much too passive with his friend. Yang Hai couldn't keep looking out for him forever; one of these days, the ever ominous They were going to decide enough was enough, and Le Ping would be sent back home.

Then what were they going to do?

He sighed. This was a headache and a half.

---

Tragedy struck in 2005 when Touya Kouyo, the man said to be the closest to the Hand of God, died of a heart attack.

It was the stress, people said. Touya-sensei just had too much on his plate.

Touya Akira, the rising hope of the Japanese go world, retired the same year. Of course, he had swiped every single title first, and defended each one of them in the following year. However, despite (or perhaps, due to) the accomplishments in his short career, it was a shock to the world when he announced his premature retirement. Many saw it as a scandal. The media buzzed about it for nearly half a year. The tabloids had a field day. Old rumors were unearthed, new ones were started.

People remembered how a few years ago, whispers had circulated that Touya Akira had a suicidal streak. It was said that he was clinically depressed. He had to see a psychologist. He was on special medication.

No one knew if it was true. First they said that Touya was depressed because of his father's sudden death. Then they were saying Touya Akira had been pressured into retiring. By his mother. By his mentors and peers. Or maybe somone else?

Like before, no one had an answer.

In other news, many pros were heard to be saying that the Japanese go world was falling apart for lack of new talent. Touya Akira had been their rising star. Now, he was gone, and the other shining hopes had risen to the pro world six or seven years ago were doing poorly. Heads shook and even some tears were shed over the sad state of their records. Kadowaki was still stuck at 2-dan. Ochi had fallen into a slump last year after being crushed by Touya Akira and never recovered from it. Waya, Honda, and the other talented young pros...well, to be honest, no one ever expected too much out of them.

The only one anyone still had some hope left for was Isumi Shinichirou. Yet, to the further frustration of the adoring public, he continued to be weak at crucial moments, losing his focus and confidence, submitting to disastrous losses when he could have easily won _if only he'd held himself together._

The Hokuto Cups were an embarrassment. Korea swept the win for three years straight, before China managed to wrestle a slim victory over them. Japan came in dead last every single time.

As the years passed, a popular sigh could be heard.

_If only we had a talent such as Hon'inbou Shuusaku today. If only, if only...__  
_

_

* * *

_

Notes...  
More chapters soon to come, some shorter, some longer, each describing AU's where other characters are taken out of the picture.

Special thanks to...  
Everyone on livejournal who commented and gave constructive criticism - it really helped!  
Extra special thanks to Emilie, unofficial editor-in-chief and reviewer. :)

Thanks for reading! Reviews and constructive criticisms are, of course, very much welcomed!


	2. Fujisaki Akari: The Reason

**Fujisaki Akari**  
_The Reason_

"Mitani, why don't you go back to the go club?"

The boy in question spared a glare for Kaneko, but didn't say anything out loud. Mitani just continued walking, wondering why the hell she had to follow him.

...Right. They lived in the same direction from the school. Damn.

The volleyball-come-go player wasn't giving up. "Hey, Mitani. Are you deaf?"

"No," he replied waspishly. "You're just annoying."

Kaneko ignored the remark. "The go club could really use another player. They're just one man short of competing in the tournament next month. You sure you can't come back just this once to help them out?"

"Why are you so interested in the club?"

"Shindou-kun asked me to help out," Kaneko said, shrugging. "Since volleyball ended, I decided it would be fun. Don't you like go, too?"

Mitani bit down on an instinctive "yes" and just glared again. "None of your business."

Kaneko took the direct approach. "I heard you were swindling old timers at a go salon. Shindou-kun was the one who helped you out when they finally retaliated, right? I think you owe him that much."

"I don't owe him anything," Mitani snapped.

"Is it just because there aren't any pretty girls in the club to attract your attention? You're so shallow, Mitani."

He glared at her again, but couldn't find anything to say.

* * *

Notes...  
This piece could have been much longer, but I decided to leave it short and sweet, in the spirit of the character.  
The idea? It was about a much greater impact that Akari had on the rest of the cast. Involving Hikaru. And the Haze school fair. And the go club. And insei--  
Anyway, _that_ particular AU piece will come later, under the heading for **Tsutsui Kimihiro **(because he deserves more love). 

Thanks to...  
Everyone who reviewed! Some of you didn't leave signed reviews, so I was unable to reply, but if you'd like a reply, just prod me and I'll have them up on Livejournal before you can say "Hikaru no Go is the best manga ever!"

Now I'd better stop before these notes end up longer than the fic itself...


	3. Touya Akira: Loss

**Touya Akira  
**_Loss_

"Icchan, who was that boy?" Hirose rubbed his balding head, his expression one of bafflement. "The one with the bleached-blonde hair."

"Who?" Ichikawa was busy clearing out a clutter of papers behind the counter. How had it all piled up like this? She paused to think for a moment, before glancing at the sign-in sheet and remembered, "Oh. His name was Shindou Hikaru. Why?"

Hirose shook his head. "I offered to play against him, and asked him how strong he was, and he said 'I think I'm pretty strong.' Kitajima-san overheard then, and got interested, so I let him play instead. The boy refused a handicap, so they played an even game. And..."

Ichikawa looked up from her housekeeping, frowning. "And what? Did Kitajima-san go too hard on him?"

"No, no." Hirose shook his head. "Kitajima-san played all out, but the boy won."

"_What?_"

"Is he an insei, maybe?" Hirose asked, looking quizzically at the shocked expression on Ichikawa's face.

"No. No way." Ichikawa glanced over to the gathering around Kitajima-san, all the players discussing the game in tones of surprise. She walked around the counter and over to them. "Kitajima-san! What happened?"

Kitajima shook his head as well. "That strength..." he murmured. "Icchan, who is that boy?"

"I don't know! He..." Ichikawa swallowed. This was crazy. "He said he's never played a game before today!"

Gasps and shocked murmurs rippled through the gathered crowd.

"Never played before?"

"Impossible. He must be lying."

"This boy..."

"He beat Kitajima-san!"

"...who is he?"

"That's enough!" Kitajima snapped, finally becoming more annoyed than surprised at his own loss. "If this is his real strength, then sooner or later he's going to go pro. We'll find out about him then, if that's the case."

---

"Hikaru..."

"What, Sai? I'm trying to do my English homework." Hikaru glared at the sheet of paper before him, but the detested combinations of letters refused to make sense to him.

The ghost's expression was one of hurt, but he opened his fan, hiding behind it as he said in a small voice, "I was just wondering if...we could play go this week? You promised last week, but then you went on a picnic with your family, so..."

Hikaru sighed, setting down his pencil. "We've already been to all the go salons nearby," he complained. "And the people there all recognize me now because you keep beating everyone. I don't want to go back there. The old guys are creepy."

Sai hid his disappointment behind a flutter of his fan. "But...couldn't we go somewhere new?"

"_Sai_, I can't keep this up forever! There aren't that many go salons within a reasonable distance. How long are you planning on playing go?"

How long? How did one measure time? He wanted to play go as long as the skies continued to scatter her ever-white snowflakes, as long as the red maple leaves danced among the wind with every coming autumn. Sai never wanted to leave this game he loved, this eternity within the maze of nineteen by nineteen lines, the ever-changing tales sketched out with stones of black and white.

Fujiwara no Sai wanted to play go forever.

But Hikaru couldn't understand that. Though Sai longed to show him the beauty in go, and tried, the young boy just wasn't interested.

"Can we play go sometime this week?" he begged. "Please, Hikaru? Or I can teach you how to play, and we could get a goban for your room, and then you wouldn't have to keep running around anymore."

"Play? Me?" Hikaru laughed, brushing it off. "_I_ don't want to play go." He yawned, and glanced at the clock, then at Sai. "It's getting late. I'll try to find someplace to go tomorrow, okay?"

Sai nodded, smiling, all other sad thoughts swept away by that one promise. "Yes! Thank you, Hikaru."

---

Hikaru paused, detaching himself from the crowd of students pushing their way out of the classroom. He saw Akari start to follow him, but quickly motioned for her to wait outside. He had to talk to their science teacher for a minute.

"Kumako-sensei?"

"Hmm?" Kumako paused in sorting through a stack of homework papers, peering curiously at Hikaru from behind her glasses. "Yes, Shindou-kun. Do you need something?"

"Um, I was wondering...since I heard you know about go..." Well, this was definitely going to sound random. But then, Hikaru glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw a certain violet-haired figure standing beside him, eyes slightly unfocused, probably thinking about go again. "There are professional go players, right?"

"Yes, there are." She smiled, and added, a bit curiously, "I didn't know you were interested in go, Shindou-kun. Do you play?"

"Uh...yeah. Sure." Hikaru glanced at Sai again. _Well, not really, but I've got a centuries old ghost bugging me about it day in and day out..._ "So, what do go professionals do anyway? Do they just play games all day?"

"Well, pros also play at exhibitions and other events, and they also play in dan matches and league matches to compete for titles and rankings among themselves."

"So they're good?"

She laughed. "Yes, Shindou-kun. They're very good. That's why they're pros."

"How do you become a pro?"

The science teacher stared at him for a moment, then seemed to catch herself. "Well...I think there's a pro exam every year, during the summer," she replied. "Why?"

"Oh, nothing. Just curious. Thanks, sensei, see you tomorrow!"

---

"Become a pro?" Sai asked. His violet eyes were shining with surprise. But then, a moment of hesitation came over him, "Hikaru, what made you decide so suddenly?"

"What? Don't you want me to go pro so you can play against all the really strong go players?" Hikaru tapped his pencil against his chin, idly ignoring the math homework laid out before him. He leaned back in the chair, tossing a wisp of blonde hair out of his eyes as he regarded his ghostly companion. "Don't worry, I'm not just going to pick this up and drop it again like I don't care -- I'll stick with being pro, for as long as you're here...which is probably forever, but anyway. Hey, you okay?"

Sai was hiding behind his fan again, but this time the tears were of joy. Without warning, he enveloped Hikaru in a tight embrace, happiness overflowing like an excited child. "Oh, thank you, Hikaru, thankyouthankyouthankyou!"

"Okay, okay! Stop it already!"

"Hikaru, you are truly a kindhearted child!" Sai was beaming for joy. "And believe me, you will not regret this! I know that in time you'll come to see the beauty in go, and I just know that you will love it as I do. The intricate patterns, each and every stone laid down with purpose and resolve, reflecting the players' very souls..."

Hikaru, now almost by habit, tuned out Sai as he dissolved into a full-blown speech about the virtues of go. He poked his math homework, still unable to concentrate on it, and his eyes drifted over to the soccer magazine laid out at the side of his desk instead.

There was an almost chagrined look in his eyes. It had been his lifelong dream, however short that might have been, to become a professional soccer player. Ever since the first time he extended a foot to kick that black and white ball, Hikaru had loved the game as nothing else. But still, he supposed that really, he hadn't been very serious about it after all. Not when compared to Sai's blatant and overwhelming love for his chosen dedication.

In his heart, Hikaru had always known that he would never be able to become a successful soccer star. It had been a dream -- a very nice dream -- but it wasn't going to come true. Hikaru had wondered, sometimes, lying in bed at night, what he would do to fulfill the role of his parents' only child; how would he support them in their old age? How would he face them, as a failure in academics and a burn-out in sports?

Becoming a pro for Sai wasn't running away, not in Hikaru's mind. It was his way of giving up his own desires for those around him, the ones he loved. Sai, of course, but also his mother, his father, and grandpa. For Sai, going pro would mean a lifetime of opportunities to play the present world's greatest players. For his family, it would mean some kind of security in finances, and also joy for his mother, because her son had made something of himself in the world.

And maybe, just maybe, his father would come home more often, now that he had a reason to be proud of his only son...

But it was best not to wish too much, Hikaru supposed.

He picked up the soccer magazine and placed it carefully in the bottom drawer of his desk.

---

"One win, two losses?"

Fuku rubbed his head absentmindedly. "Yeah... I lost to this kid, he's around our age but he's really strong. Stronger than you, and probably all the other insei."

Waya was unimpressed. "You probably just had an off day."

"No, I mean it..."

"Go study some more."

"Even if I study for years, I still don't think I could beat him."

Waya smacked him, but gently. "Idiot. Don't be depressed just because you lost a game in the qualifying round! Just win the next two games; you know you can do it."

"...Yeah."

There was a silence.

"Hey, Waya?"

"Yeah?"

"What I said before, about that kid being really strong..."

Waya gave a loud sigh. "Stop overreacting already. You know what, next month we should get everyone together and study with each other. Trust me, if there really were some kid who's _that_ good, we would have heard of him. Random geniuses don't just pop up out of the ground, you know."

Fuku looked like he wanted to say something more, but then he shrugged slightly to himself and gave a small smile. "Yeah. That sounds like a good plan."

Waya didn't seem to be in the mood for listening; he thought Fuku was exaggerating. But it was the truth, only Fuku wasn't sure how his friend would react if he heard it -- that Fuku knew he wasn't going to pass this year, because in Fuku's mind, one of the spaces was already taken.

Shindou Hikaru, his third opponent in the preliminary qualifying round, was going to pass.

That left only two spaces. There never had been enough for everyone who took the exam, but now...

Well, it was just life, he supposed.

- - -

Sai played black that day, but even if he had played white, Sai knew that Waya Yoshitaka would not have been able to capture the game. The boy was good, but not good enough. Not yet. There would be a time for him to shine, Sai could tell, but that time was not now.

Waya bowed his head over the goban. "I have nothing."

Hikaru returned the bow, as was only proper. "Thank you for the game." Hikaru was learning the rules of this game as well, even as he watched while Sai played. Little by little, but surely, steadily. This was the only way to progress, after all, step by step.

It was a ladder they all had to climb, with each rung being greater opponents, each step taken only with study and losses and more studying until, finally, victory was within reach.

Sai bowed to his opponent as well, though he knew Waya could not see him.

"Thank you for the game," he whispered.

- - -

"Don't you even think about going easy on me."

Waya's tone was light, and the words were delivered in a joking manner -- but Isumi could see the determination in his eyes. He put on a smile, continuing their little charade as they entered the examination room together.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Waya," he replied.

The minutes seemed to pass in a blur as they settled before their goban, their battleground for today. Unspoken, they both reached into their respective goke at the same time; choose for color now and save time later.

Waya placed two black pieces on the board; Isumi counted out five rows of white stones, plus one more. They switched colors.

"Please begin your games," Shinoda-sensei intoned.

Isumi nearly jumped in surprise. Where had the last fives minutes gone?

"Onegaishimasu," he murmured, and heard the traditional greeting being echoed all around the room.

The games began.

This wasn't a game he could afford to take lightly. The pro exam was nearing its final stages, and a loss now could mean failure. Waya was not someone he could win easily against, and also...

If Waya lost this game, he would most likely be out of the running. The same could be said for himself. The top records were close this year.

_Concentrate._

His eyes focused on the go board, the array of black and white stretching before his vision, territories and half-sketched claims, battles won and lost and yet to be fought... How would this all end?

He assessed his options: either secure his claim to the left side of the board, or cut Waya's territory on the right side. Waya should have defended better there, and cut the chances of his loss. It wouldn't be fair to take advantage of that blunder, a small voice whispered in his mind...

_"Don't you even think about going easy on me."_

But one of them was going to have to lose, one way or another.

_"I wouldn't dream of it."_

Isumi picked up a black stone...and attacked the right side territory.

There were no friends when it came down to the game, only opponents.

Still, that knowledge did little to console him as Waya bowed to him, conceding his loss. "I have nothing."

"Thank you for the game."

There was nothing more to be said. He looked away from Waya and went to mark his win.

- - -

Hon'inbo Shuusaku reborn.

That was the catch-phrase that the reporters at Weekly Go had thought up to describe Shindou Hikaru, the boy who had taken and surpassed all others in this year's pro exam. He was talented, they said in awe. He was frightening. He was a miracle.

He was hope.

And to think that less than a month ago, all the same reporters had been sighing about how Japan was fast losing to China and Korea in the world of go.

Maybe in another month, all this fuss will have died down and faded away to nothing.

Or maybe not.

Ogata tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, waiting for the traffic light to change. Running into Amano at the Institute this morning certainly had been interesting. The first thing the man had asked him was, "Ogata-san, have you heard about the results of this year's pro exam, yet?"

He had. The top three were Shindou Hikaru, Isumi Shinichirou, and Kadowaki Tatsuhiko. Isumi and Kadowaki had been known, and expected to pass. Shindou, however, had been an unknown variable.

Amano said that Shindou had surpassed all of his opponents.

"I heard from Shinoda-sensei," Amano had said, "that Shindou is incredible. He thinks that the boy will change the Japanese go for good, and that the current pros had better watch out."

Then let him change the world, Ogata thought, as the traffic light finally turned green. The same old geezers had monopolized their titles for long enough. It was time for a new generation wash away the old.

He hadn't been able to take the Hon'inbo title from Kuwabara this time around, but come next year, that relic was going to resign from his throne.

_Count on it, old man._

* * *

Another chapter! ...yeah, it was pretty lame. Off to work on Tsutsui's AU piece. 


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